


Ember

by chocoholicannanymous



Series: Marks and Matches [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Corruption, M/M, Magical Bond, Rebellion, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Unequal society, feel free to play guess who with supporting cast, not-main characters galore, there's something rotten in this society
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 09:08:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13268238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocoholicannanymous/pseuds/chocoholicannanymous
Summary: Sequel to Flare. Stiles is ready to do anything, even kill himself, to escape the system of dominants and submissives. The question becomes what his Match is prepared to do in turn.





	Ember

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rubylis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubylis/gifts).



> This was written for rubylis, who bid for me in last year's Fandom trumps hate auction. Half of forever later, here we are...  
> The story was posted in three parts on tumblr, and the part 1 et c headers remain as dividers. Very much unbeta'd.  
> As always, I own nothing except an overactive imagination, way too many plotbunnies and a worn red hoodie.

**Part 1**

 

Derek's at the store when it happens. A brief flash of not-quite-pain that leaves him wondering what for several seconds. When he finally realizes – not a flash, the  **flare** – it's like being slapped.

He stands there, poleaxed, and stares at nothing.

He's been Marked. He's got a Match.

It's an employee that breaks him out of his stupor by asking if he's okay. Okay? Derek...doesn't know.

“I... My, my Mark flared,” he croaks out, and then “I've got to go.”

He drops the bag of carrots still in his hand, pushes his basket at the poor employee, and turns to leave.

Once outside he starts to run. Without direction, he thinks at first, but soon he realizes that he's feeling a pull. It's his Match, close enough for Derek to feel them. Humans don't get that, don't feel that, and Derek spares a second to pity them before his attention is completely refocused on following that pull.

So he runs, and he lets his instinct lead him.

He ends up outside a nondescript house, that he honestly couldn't tell apart from the ones surrounding it – except for one thing: the heartbeat inside.

That heart, that sound, makes all the difference.

 

His Match is called Stiles, won't give another name, and he's adorably cute with a potential for devastating, distracting moles, hands that make Derek's pulse jump, and he smells like...

Like teenage boy, and desire, like something Derek can only label “home” and something sharp and unpleasant. Nerves maybe? Having your Mark flare changes everything after all. It's not like Derek isn't nervous too, isn't worried about not being good enough for his Match, or... Well. He's nervous, is all.

But scent isn’t exact, isn’t a science, and so he asks if something is wrong, hoping for a “no”. What he gets is panicked babble and an “I’m sorry”.

 

Apparently what Derek’s Match - Stiles, what  **Stiles** is sorry for is killing himself. He’s terrified of the Council, thinks they’ll kill him if they get their hands on him, and the more he talks, the more it’s obvious he won’t be convinced otherwise.

It’s not something Derek wants to believe, not something he can allow himself to believe, not with everything that it’ll mean - but. His  **Match** believes. That is almost enough to change Derek’s mind, regardless of everything.

It’s enough to drag him in, to make him furious - to get caught up enough in rage to almost forget...

Derek bites back a whine as Stiles's scent hits him again – bad/sick/wrong, a reminder that his Match doesn't want him. That  **his other half** has chosen death over Derek.

He can barely keep control of his wolf-instincts as those thoughts pass through his brain.

_ Not fair _ , his rational side admonishes. Stiles didn't chose death over  **Derek** , not really. He didn't even know Derek existed when he came up with his plan. He'd chosen himself over everything and everyone else, desperate to avoid sub-training.

Just, Derek's desperate too. His Match is in danger, and Derek's instincts are running amok.

“Rational” isn't working.

It’s even worse when he feels their bond “catch”. Stiles was already it for him - from the moment their Marks flared there could never have been anyone else - but now, with their souls entwined together he can  **feel it** . And that settles it. He can’t lose this.

He’ll do whatever it takes not to lose Stiles.

Stiles, who takes his hand and holds it. Stiles, who doesn’t protest when Derek pulls him close and holds him.

Stiles, who...

Derek buries his nose against Stiles's throat, chasing the true scent of his Match, and when he finds it – what he thinks is it – he breathes in deeply, filling his nose and his head with  **Stiles** .

He feels his eyes go back and forth between human hazel and Alpha red, a flare of his own, as he continues to try and fill himself up with the scent of his brave, stubborn human Match.

He whispers a silent “sorry” into Stiles's skin.

And then he bites down.

  
  
  


**Part 2**

 

Derek runs. He runs like he never has in his life. Not even when his family was dying did he come even close. He wants to say it's because he's an Alpha now, that he's stronger and faster because of that, but he knows it's not true.

He's running like this because he's never been more desperate in his life. Losing his family – his pack – had been traumatic, but losing his Match would mean losing everything.

He needs for Stiles to live.

Not because he won't survive Stiles dying, but because he doesn't  **want** to survive it.

 

Stiles needs medical care. The bite will heal a lot of things, yes, and it's what's keeping him alive right now, but it's not a cure-all. Maybe, if Stiles had already been a wolf, his body would be able to fight of whatever he's taken – then again, he would have taken something else then, wouldn't he? – but not now. Not without help.

The problem is that Derek can't take him to the hospital. Or well, he  **can** , just. Once they figure out about the Mark, or the Council puts out an alert, Stiles will be picked up and sent of to sub-training. And Derek can't allow that.

Stiles doesn't want it. He preferred dying to sub-training, and that means Derek can't allow him to be sent there. Whether he's right about what it means or not he  **believes** it, and Derek can't overrule him on that. (Which might just prove that Derek isn't dominant in this relationship after all.  _ Huh _ .)

There's also the fact, that while Derek will die if Stiles dies, he doesn't think he can live with a Stiles that is less than this. That's been, as he put it, broken. There's a fire inside his beautiful Match that rivals everything Derek's ever seen, and for the first time in years he craves that fire. To have it reduces to coals and ashes, or even embers... No.

Nothing but what Stiles really is will ever do.

And that means no hospital.

It's a good thing Derek has another option.

 

It's not until he's already banging at the door that Derek even considers the possibility of Alan Deaton not being home.

But he is, and as soon as the door opens Derek stutters out what is as much a demand as a plea to help his Match. For a moment it looks as Deaton is going to protest, making Derek’s fangs itch, but then he looks at the unconscious Stiles and steps aside.

Once the door’s closed behind them Deaton gives Derek a look that makes him want to curl in on himself and hide. He doesn’t though, because Stiles needs him. He might not be that good at standing up for himself, especially not against someone like Deaton, but he’ll do anything for the people he cares about.

“I don’t understand , why bring him here instead of to the hospital? I'm not exactly in the business of treating humans, Derek.”

True. All true – on the surface. But nothing about Alan Deaton is surface only. His business is treating animals, yes, but outside of it he's treated various members of the Hale family for a number of things preferably kept quiet. Which is exactly the case here.

Derek stumbles through an explanation, trying to tell Deaton as much as possible, in as few words as he can, barely holding back the desire to just roar him into submission. It won't work, but. Instincts are hard to deny.

Once he runs out of words Deaton just looks first at him, and then at Stiles, in that cool, almost detached way that's made Derek want to rip his throat out more than once. Then he nods.

“You made the right decision. As much as I'd like to say differently, your young man was right. He never would have stood a chance in sub-training.”

It feels like being hit by a tree. Derek feels his mouth open and close a few time, trying to form words but not managing. Finally he croaks out a “what” but doesn't get any further.

Luckily Deaton takes mercy on him.

“Let’s get him down into the basement so I can start treatment. I’ll explain once he’s safe.”

Deaton’s basement is...not as expected. Well, not until Deaton opens a secret door that not even Derek’s werewolf senses notice. Beyond that it’s exactly what he’d expect from an emissary. Even if said emissary is supposedly retired.

He puts Stiles down on the floor according to Deaton’s instructions, and hovers uselessly as the man does...something. There’s chalk, around the door and in a circle on the floor. There’s a liquid of some sorts, also on the floor, and candles and incense.

Finally he nods, and starts an examination of Stiles.

Whatever it is he mixes and pours down Stiles’s throat afterwards makes Derek’s nose  **burn** , and causes Stiles to whimper. Deaton however looks cool, and satisfied.

When Stiles starts thrashing and moaning Derek rushes over, intent to take his pain. But Deaton stops him before he can touch Stiles.

“Don’t. I know that your every instinct must be screaming at you to take his pain away right now, but you can’t. It’s too much, and could drain you.” It makes no sense, and Deaton can clearly see it, because he clarifies. “Taking that much pain, helping him to draw out the poison, it could drain your power. Oh, you wouldn’t become human, but you  **could** lose what makes you an Alpha.”

“He’s worth it.”

“I’m sure he is, and we’re keeping that in reserve. Just, let’s see if we can’t fix this without sacrificing your power. It could come in very handy soon.”

Derek considers fighting Deaton - which, unless the man uses magic, would be like swatting a fly - but then thinks better of it. Being an Alpha  **could** come in handy, Deaton’s right about that. For one, there’s the fact that a Council goonsquad could show up, aiming to take Stiles away. Second…

Well. He’ll wait and see. For now.

It doesn’t take too long for Stiles to throw up, making Deaton look relieved.

“That’ll do it. As long as there are no complications from the bite he should be fine.”

Derek feels his knees start to give, and allows his body to slide down the wall. Once he’s seated on the floor and breathing properly again he turns towards Deaton with a hint of Alpha red coloring his eyes.

“You said you’d explain.”

Deaton nods, a somber look on his face.

“Sub-training is... There are those individuals who are unarguably suited to a life of submission. That said, every single individual that enters a sub-training facility comes out more or less broken – provided they come out at all. For some, however, 'more or less' becomes 'completely'.

“Your Mr Stilinski–”

“Stiles,” Derek insists, because he thinks Stiles would, and Deaton nods.

“–Stiles, would as far as I can tell, be one of the latter. The kind of personality that would rather die than enter sub-training does not lend itself well to a submissive lifestyle under any circumstances. I believe, from what I've heard, that the only way he would pass training would be to break so completely nothing of his true self remains.

“And that means training for him would become even more...harsh than usual. Chances are he would not survive.”

Deaton keeps talking for a little while, but Derek can't hear him over the sound of his own racing heart and the buzzing sound in his ears. Stiles could have died. If things had gone differently, Stiles would have gone to a training facility, and he would have died.

Derek would have lost his other half, like he's lost so much else.

_ Did Paige go through that? Was this the truth about her death, and her pneumonia just a cover up? Did the Council break her for fun, and then just throw her away? Did.. _

“...Derek? Are you alright?”

Alright? How can he be, hearing that, knowing that? They're safe for now though, he tells himself, with as much force as he can muster. Safe for now.

He nods.

“Good. As I was saying, unfortunately for Stiles there are other factors at play here. Even if he could have dealt with sub-training, chances are he still wouldn't have made it out alive. Not being Claudia Stilinski's son.”

Derek tries to understand what parentage has to do with sub-training, and then a memory floats to the surface.

“Stiles said his mom worked to take the Council down.”

“Exactly. Claudia Stilinski was a threat to the Council, and their system, and that's why she died. Initially the plan was to take out the whole family, but when her watchers spotted an important, and dangerous, witness with her... Well. Priorities. Stiles and the sheriff were left alone after since it was determined they didn't know enough to risk the attention, but if the Council were to get their hands on Stiles it would be a different matter.”

He’d hoped that Stiles was just paranoid. Yes, his Match had believed every word he’d said, but belief doesn’t necessarily make a truth. Derek knows this. Deaton’s words crushes the last of his, well, naivety he guesses.

“And even if Claudia hadn’t been a factor they still wouldn’t allow him to go free, not now.”

Derek feels his claws and fangs begin to emerge, and growls out a terse “what”.

“What do you know about the Council? About how it’s run, I mean.”

“The same as everyone else? It’s not covered that thoroughly in school, and mom…”  _ never got around to sharing whatever she might have known. _

“Not much then. Fascinating, isn’t it, how little we really know of the most powerful group in our society.”

Derek opens his mouth to protest, because that’s not how it is, and then closes it again. Because on paper, that’s maybe not how it goes, but in reality? If they’re doing what Stiles claims…

Deaton gives him a “there you go” look, and then starts explaining. It’s long,, and honestly, Derek’s not sure why he needs a lesson on society’s biggest fourth power. Or, for that matter, how Deaton knows so much.

_ In fact... _

“How do you know all this about the Council?”

“My biological father’s family is on it.”

Derek stiffens, and starts to considering an attack.

“He was sent out to try and ‘convince’ my mother into joining the Council’s magic users, and chose to do so by seducing her. By the time she wised up and threw him out, she was already pregnant. She hid her pregnancy for as long as she could, and then faked my birth records, and he never found out for certain if I was his son or not. Oh, he suspected, and I’m sure he was planning something, but luckily when I was twelve he died from a stroke.

“A year later I got a letter from a girl claiming to be my half-sister.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, and Deaton gives him a wry smile, correctly interpreting the unspoken message.

“Yes, I thought so too. But, she checked out, as far as we could tell, and she did have my late father’s private journals. Reading them was...informative, shall we say? I decided to trust her - to a certain degree, and admittedly more out of a desire for more family than any kind of prudence.”

Deaton shrugs, looking a bit embarrassed of his thirteen year old self.

“Later I realized exactly how dangerous it was, and yet. I kept in touch with her. I remembered that precious little girl, and I thought maybe I could help her keep some of that. Keep some of the humanity the Council seems so eager to train out of their people.”

And… Derek can understand that. Even knowing as little about the Council as he does, it doesn’t exactly take a genius to realize that to work for them you need to leave your empathy at the door.

“It went on like that until she showed up at my door, middle of the night, freaked out. She was nineteen by then, and doing her first round of on-location training with the Council. Up until that moment I’d written her off as a lost cause - softer and more emphatic maybe than most, but still Council to the bone.

“And there she was, begging for my help.”

There’s pain in Deaton’s eyes, even if his face and voice stay steady, and Derek finds he’s steeling himself. This is not going to be a happy story, he thinks.

“She’d been somewhere she didn’t really have clearance to be, following her mentor, when there was a commotion. One of the ‘rising stars’, a younger member of one of the most powerful families, had just experienced the flare.

“It was developing into quite a party, with talk about finding the champagne, until some minion came running with a file. And then… Complete shutdown. The whole atmosphere went cold, and everyone was either practically thrown out, or sent back to whatever assignments they’d been working on.

“Next day the woman whose Mark had flared was missing from work. At first Marin thought she’d gone to oversee her Match’s case - not exactly according to rules, but well.”

Yes. Rules were, after all, meant to broken. At least they were if you were the one making them.

“Only she never came back. Marin snooped, just a little, and found out she’d apparently gone on vacation. Some last hurrah thing. It sounded strange, and for some reason Marin decided to break all the rules. She looked up the Match - told me she figured the trip was a cover for participating in her own Match’s training, which Marin wasn’t at all okay with. She didn’t have all the information, but she had enough.

“Only there was no file on the Match in the Council’s system.

“So she’d widened the search, and then there was a hit. Laura Hale, of Beacon Hills California, dead in a fire along with most of her family. A fire that took place the day after that very flare Marin watched.”

Deaton doesn’t say more, doesn’t need to. Derek can fill in the blanks.

He remembers the day Laura’s Mark flared. His family had gone back and forth between happiness for her, and worry for Derek. It had been only weeks after Paige, and his grief had still overshadowed everything. So, uncle Peter had been roped into taking Derek and Cora for icecream.

He’d grumbled, but that was as much Peter being Peter as anything else, before taking them two towns over and treating them to not only icecream but a book-shopping spree that had made Cora jump with joy.

Derek had been bribed with driving Peter’s Camaro back.

They’d been maybe 30 minutes away when the pain had hit them, all at once. It had been so unexpected, all of them singing along to some shitty popsong just to make Cora smile, and then Derek was fighting to keep the car on the road. It had only gotten worse after.

Peter had been out the door before they’d even come to a stop, and Derek had followed him as soon as he’d made sure Cora was okay. He’d been so far behind, unable to keep up, and yet he’d kept running as if the devil was on his heels.

Had run faster than ever before, or again - up until today.

He hadn’t stopped for anything, not even feeling one light after the other go out in his soul, because it could not be true. And then he’d almost collided with Peter.

His uncle had just stood there, eyes flaring red - Derek still remembers trying to deny it - and his claws out, resting against a blonde woman’s throat. And then… Everything had gone so fast. Peter - growling, threatening, accusing, barely holding his shift back. Her - defiant, triumphant, shining bright with terrible beauty and madness.

Her throat ripped out, blood everywhere, a bright red spot on Peter’s forehead, blood, both their bodies falling, power and fear and bloodbloodblood.

He’d run again then, back towards Cora, had scooped her up and fled to the car, shaking with emotion and terror and power, power, power…

Next thing he remembers is sitting at the sheriff’s station, listening to Deaton’s whispered instructions, not understanding but following them anyway.

He pulls himself out of his memories, ignores the pain that’s always present. This is not the time to get caught up in the past. Stiles needs him to be here and now.

“Are you saying Laura, that our family died because of Laura’s Match?”

“I’m saying Laura’s Match killed them, yes, and that she did it because they were Matched. Now, make no mistake. Katherine Argent,” and Derek takes note of the name, for the first time hearing who had killed his family, “acted on her own. But she absolutely, one hundred percent had the Council backing her. She did not in any way go ‘rouge’, she just wanted to take out this threat herself instead of allowing anyone else to do it.

“And yes. Her Mark and Match made Laura a threat to the Council, and your family died for it. And now Stiles is at risk of the same thing happening to him.”

Derek’s claws are out before he even registers it happening. One second they’re tucked away, the next they’re out and itching to silence Deaton. He focuses, full of shame over his loss of control, and feels the partial shift recede.

“What. Do. You. Mean.”

“What is the fundamental truth about weres and dynamic?”

Derek scrounges his eyebrows together. It makes no sense, has nothing to do with anything as far as Derek can tell, but he answers anyway. Deaton doesn’t seem to be the type to engage in mindless chatter.

“They’re always dominant.”

“And the Council?”

_ Oh. _

“They’re always dominant.”

“Yes. Of course, as you’ve learned, Marks and thus designations can be changed. What you can’t change however is someone being a were. And there you have it.”

Oh, it’s clear now, why. The woman who was Laura’s- no, who wore a Mark that matched Laura’s, because she doesn’t  **deserve** to be claimed in any way as Laura’s, she’d grown up being told that in an eventual Match she’d be dominant, and then had had that smashed to pieces. All that arrogance, and hubris, the belief that she was somehow  **better** , boiled down, making her think she could decide who lived and who died.

It’s the Council Stiles talked about in a nutshell.

And yes, he’s at risk now too, isn’t he? Just like Deaton said. Because the rule that weres are always dominant means no were is ever Matched with another were. Means it’s illegal to give your Match the bite - the Council approved lore says it’s because a submissive’s body can’t take it, that they turn into abominations, Kanimas.

Except that too is looking like a lie now.

He nods to himself, understanding everything so much clearer now. 

“And even if they don’t kill him for that, or for his mom, they’ll do it because of me. Won’t they? Because Peter killed one of them, and it’s just me and Cora left now. All this, and killing Stiles isn’t just practical for them any longer, it’s pretty much unavoidable.

“Well, I’m not going to let them.”

“I hoped you’d say that. Now, we have a while longer until it’s safe to move your young man, and this part of my home is protected, even from the Council’s magic users. I do have some ideas, but essentially it’s going to be up to you, because it’s your life. Well, yours and Stiles’s, but as we won’t be able to wait for his input, you will have to decide for both of you.

“So. Let’s talk options.”

 

It’s obvious they can’t stay in Beacon Hills. Deaton’s basement might be protected, but they can’t stay there. Of course, there are very few places where they  **can** stay. The warded communities Stiles talked about earlier is probably their only real option, and Derek is grateful that Deaton has contacts there. He’s less grateful about the transport methods that gets outlined, but. He’ll deal.

Safety outweighs preference and comfort, after all.

A bigger issue is keeping the Council from looking for them. Or him, rather. Stiles did, after all, try and kill himself. With how much he obviously cares for his father there will be a letter. That’s him dealt with.

Derek however… Derek they will come for. Will hunt. Weres live among humans openly now, and have been deemed no threat, but a were that’s lost their Match is another thing. Packs will take down members who lose their Match before it becomes necessary, in fear of the Council stepping in - and that’s only if the were doesn’t commits suicide first.

There’s no way the Council won’t come for him with everything they’ve got.

Deaton has a solution for that too though, and Derek feels ungrateful about his suspicions that Deaton has plans for everything but won’t share.

“You want me to give up the Alpha power?”

“No. I want you to know that it’s an option, and to think it over. It has both positive and negative aspects, but it will keep the Council from searching for you.”

And that’s true. If Derek gives up the power like this, in a controlled ritual, it’ll pass to Cora. That will make it look like Derek’s dead, since unless you’re with the old Alpha as the power passes there’s no way to tell  **why** it’s passed on. It’ll also give Cora the opportunity to build herself a new pack.

“What’s the downside?”

“You won’t be as strong, which could affect your ability to defend yourself and your Match. Also, being an Alpha would help as Stiles learns to control his new abilities.”

“No. I get why you say that, and I know it can be very useful, but I won’t do that to Stiles. He wouldn’t want me to be able to order him around - if he didn’t want a dominant, he won’t want an Alpha either.”

He hasn’t known Stiles long, true, but he can feel it in his bones that this isn’t something Stiles would want. It would be a power imbalance, an inequality, and it would ruin everything between them before it even could start. It’s too reminiscent of what Stiles tried to kill himself to avoid, and Derek won’t do that to him. If they’re going to defy everything to be together on their terms, then they’re going to do it all the way.

“How do we do this?”

 

Derek wakes up disoriented, an unfamiliar stiffness lingering in his body, and immediately thinks “danger”. But his body won't go alert, won't prepare itself for attack, and when he tries to force it his mind won't cooperate either. Before the panic truly begins to set in he catches a scent –  _ lovehomesafetyhappinessmate _ **_Match_ ** – and realizes why. Remembers everything.

Remembers  **Stiles** .

Now that he’s using them all of Derek’s senses tells him that Stiles is next to him, and that since Stiles is calm they’re safe. The plan must have worked.

Derek relaxes a little more, and takes a deep breath. While catching any scent except Stiles’ is hard there is an underlying one that tells him he’s in an unfamiliar place. Added to how calm Stiles is, and the lack of wolf’s-bane scent, that should mean they’re in the warded community Deaton knew of.

He opens his eyes and meets amused honey-colored ones.

“Welcome to the land of living, sleepyhead. I’ve been waiting for you for  **ages** . I’m Stiles.”

“I know” and “I’ve been waiting for you even longer” Derek wants to say. He doesn’t though, because he doesn’t want to scare off Stiles, not now that they have a real chance.

Instead he smiles, and tries to give Stiles what he wants.

“Hi. I’m Derek. I’m looking forward to getting to know you.”

  
  


**Part 3**

 

Stiles faces the camera, features deceptively relaxed and calm, but eyes hard. He waits for the light to change, just as he's been told – just like he's rehearsed – and when it does he counts to three before starting to talk.

“My name is Mieczyslaw Stilinski. Two years ago my Mark flared, and I've been hiding from the Council ever since.”

 

O---o--o---O

It's not a bad life, this new one. Oh, it’s unfamiliar, but it’s not bad. Just...hard. Strange. Like it should be someone else’s.

When Stiles wakes up in an unfamiliar room - or rather, when Stiles  **wakes up** nothing makes sense. He should be dead. He  **planned** on being dead. And yet. His body feels strong, and capable, and absolutely in no way dying. It makes no sense, fits none of his memories, just as the room doesn’t.

And then he sees Derek.

After that it’s easy to start putting the pieces of the puzzle together, and by the time someone comes to give him information (say, two, maybe three minutes after he first wakes up) Stiles has a pretty accurate idea. Not with all the details, no, but enough that not much of what the woman - Marin, she introduces herself as - says comes as a surprise.

Weres don’t do well with losing their Matches. Someone like Derek, who’s already lost so much (and yes, even as emotionally compromised as he’d been it hadn’t taken that long for Stiles to connect “Derek” to Derek Hale of Beacon Hills’s biggest tragedy) would have done even less so. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure out that Derek had been just desperate enough to not think, and risk everything, to give his dying Match the bite.

Because when he focuses Stiles can tell he’s been changed - and  _ interesting _ , he’s almost completely certain he’s a were, not a Kanima. That’s another lie exposed, another strike for the Council then.

_ One day, _ he promises. One day…

The rest of the puzzle unravels inside his overactive brain, and Marin’s information just fills in blank spots and provides nuance. Such as the room, and the cabin, they’re in being located in a warded community - Stiles had hoped, but it’s good to have it confirmed - and that he and Derek are welcome to stay as long as they wish.

There’s one thing Marin tells him that’s a complete surprise though. Derek has given up his Alpha power, for Stiles.

He thinks about that one for a long time. The idea of someone giving up that kind of power is...almost unfathomable. Power is addicting, for one, and since Derek inherited his power from his family, sentimentality also plays in. Plus, you know, a hundred more reasons. And it could have come in very handy, too, for Derek to be able to control Stiles in some way.

Except Derek just gave it up. To keep Stiles safe.

That’s humbling.

It’s also another sign that maybe he and Derek truly are well Matched - the two of them, not just their Marks.

Stiles remembers thinking that if he could have Derek and his soul both he’d never give either up. Well. Looks like he’s getting his wish.

It’s not quite that easy, of course. As much as Stiles and Derek both would love to just lose themselves in each other the truth is they can’t. Not even having freed themselves from the council make them completely free. Because second chances never come for free, and the price for Stiles’s is everything else - including his humanity.

Teaching him to live with the change and find control has to come first.

It sucks.

Stiles expects focus to be as hard as always, control to be difficult, and finding an anchor easy as breathing - with Derek next to him, how can it be anything else?

Only it’s not. It’s worse than he could ever have imagined, and it’s a fight for every inch. His first full moon is, well, a disaster. Not even Derek can keep him from trying to run back to Beacon Hills. Regardless of the danger Beacon Hills is where his dad is, and caught up in instinct that’s all Stiles knows - his dad’s been his everything for years, and now he’s not here.

In the end the community’s magic users has to step in. Stiles wakes up the next day with an impressive headache, chained to the floor of a room he’s never seen before. Apparently they knocked him out after he tried to literally claw his way out - through Derek.

The shame over that lingers for months, which makes control even harder to find. Derek helps him through it all without reproach, and by the time Stiles has found enough of a balance for them to be able to focus on each other too that steady support has endeared the man even more to Stiles.

(Finding out that one of Derek’s reasons for giving up his Alpha power was so Stiles wouldn’t ever feel like Derek could control him has already made Stiles very close to falling in love.)

It takes the better part of a year for Stiles to get his werewolfiness in check - to be able to run free during the full moon, and to even think of doing anything but keeping himself under ironclad control. A year before his desire to run back to Beacon Hills and snatch his father away isn’t a danger to all of them. Before he can be trusted to keep his claws where they belong even when his emotions are running high. Before he’s safe to even consider dating. (Stiles is a teenager, okay, and one with a more than healthy libido. He’s learned the hard way why getting his hands on his gorgeous Match isn’t a good idea yet.)

The upside to that is that once it is  **safe** Stiles and Derek have gotten to know each other enough that they can safely say that getting together is about the two of them, not about being Matched.

Not to say being Derek’s Match isn’t amazing. It is. Maybe it’s because Stiles is a were now, and that he and Derek are connected through the bite, through pack. Maybe it’s the magic of the Marks. Either way they can  **feel** each other, and having that is, it’s everything. Stiles loves his dad, okay, he 100 percent does, and he knows it’s mutual. It’s just that the loss of Claudia Stilinski had left them both feeling adrift and unstable, and having Derek there as a constant and solid presence gives Stiles solid ground under his feet for the first time since. And the same, Stiles knows, is true in reverse.

They’ve both lost just about everything. They’re both giving each other exactly that. Everything.

If this is what Matches and Marks are truly about, Stiles thinks, it’s no wonder there are poets whose works deal solely with the subject.

Knowing makes him hate the Council even more for twisting it.

 

Still, here and now life is good. And then some Council-connected asshole tries to kill Scott.

It goes like this, he’s told once he’s no longer a frothing ball of fangs, fur and rage. Some Council flunky calls the Beacon Hills sheriff’s station, requesting assistance regarding Scott McCall. The thing is, the Beacon Hills sheriff's station? Is  **John Stilinski’s** station. That means he’s the one who answers the call.

As he’s fond of saying, John didn’t get his job through his looks. He’s smart, intuitive, and a good detective. He also apparently has a much better idea of what his late wife was up to than anyone - she included - has ever realized. Add the bitterness of having lost his son because of the Council and the result is a man determined to not have others suffer the same.

He saves at least three lives that day simply by thinking faster than the other party.

As soon as the name Scott McCall is uttered John talks over the flunky, firing off questions too fast for the other man to actually answer them, ending with a oh-so-casual mention that Scott should be safely with his pack for the full moon. That stops the Council flunky dead, just as intended.

It’s Scott’s first full moon after getting the bite - a bite more of less brought on by medical emergency after his latest asthma attack nearly killed him - and well, records can be real slow to update. With Scott being a relative no one, having his status as a were out there before anything else can be said could be the only thing saving him from the very fate Stiles once feared enough to take poison.

John’s not about to let that happen on his watch.

Something about how the flunky reacts makes John nervous enough to set up a watch at the McCall residence that night, leaving him in a position to stop an assassination attempt - there can be no other description, he insists, for an attack using mountain ash, wolf’s-bane grenades and wolf’s-bane bullets. Not to mention the attackers doesn’t seem to care too much about the fact that there are  **two** people living in the house.

And that’s before John realizes someone’d broken into his house while he was at the McCalls, most likely to get him too out of the way.

The cherry on top of that shit-sundae is that Scott is Marked and the Council doesn’t have his Match in custody. Nor do they seem very eager to rectify that, or even share information about who the elusive Match is. Leaving John and Melissa with Scott, a newly changed were, who is almost guaranteed to not be in control is Marked and a missing Match.

It’s a good thing Stiles only finds out afterwards.

A really good thing.

 

A week after that clusterfuck Marin passes on the information that his dad and the McCalls are safe, hidden in another of the secretive warded communities. She won’t tell Stiles where it is, or let him pass messages back - it’s still too dangerous to let anyone know he’s alive, especially with Scott being so volatile, and likely to set out on a hunt for his Match. She does promise, however, that once it’s safe they’ll find a way to transfer John Stilinski to their community.

It’s good, but it’s nowhere enough. Having just had the fact that no one is truly safe shoved in his face makes Stiles angry, angrier than he’s ever been. It’s not the kind of red hot fury that causes him to pop claws and want to kill people. It’s an icy-white one, cold and calculating, every part of brilliance from his human genius stoked by the wolf’s desire to protect his pack. The Council might have gotten away with killing his mom, but not this. Going after the only people Stiles had left in him to love (preDerek, obviously) just because Scott taking the bite to save his own damned life stops them from twisting his Mark to suit their own purposes is passing the point of no return.

Stiles might not have been willing to fight for himself, but he sure as hell will for the people he loves.

At first he wanted to find those faceless people trying to steal one of Stiles’s two friends and  **hurt** them. Wanted to rip, and claw, and bite, and tear. their. throats. out. With his teeth. Now that he’s calmed down some he knows that’s not enough. Stiles wants to destroy them like they wanted to destroy Scott.

So he starts plotting. Living where he does Stiles isn’t without resources. First of all, the warded communities contain a lot of people who are just like him, in that they are in danger from the Council, and want to see it torn down. That’s good - he’ll need people like that.

Also, he’s got access to a lot of information he’s never known before, information the Council would prefer if no one knew, but it’s not enough. He needs more. Lots and lots more.

 

It’s time, Stiles decides, to play his hidden ace.

 

That ace consists of two sets of numbers that his mom made him memorize not long before she died. The first is a phone number, and the second an ID code of some sort that he leaves on the answering machine along with a number he can be reached on.

Then all he can do is wait.

That wait is why he didn’t make the call when his Mark flared, why he chose poison instead. Getting an answer will take up to 48 hours, time he hadn’t had back then. And no matter how much his mom believed that whoever answers could help, Stiles has limited trust in what they can do.

48 hours would have seen him locked up in a sub-training facility (provided he’d survived that long) and yeah. Locating someone in a sub-training facility, breaking in and freeing them is beyond a tall order, it’s pretty much impossible. 

He’s got time now though.

 

\---o--o---

 

The man that meets him looks like a librarian, meek and mild mannered - if you look at the surface. Stiles doesn’t do that. First of all because his dad taught him that appearances can be deceiving, second because going to school with Lydia Martin brought that lesson home big time, and third because he doesn’t have to.

Being a were has its drawbacks, true, but the heightened senses mean Stiles rarely has to guess about somethings. Like the fact that this man is lethal. It’s a thousand little things that a regular person wouldn’t notice, and that maybe one by one mean nothing, but put together it’s obvious.

He moves in a way that only a true predator does. He’s not a were (even if he could mask it from Stiles’s senses there’s no fooling the talisman Stiles brought) but he’s just as dangerous as if he were. Dangerous enough that Stiles isn’t 100% sure he could take the man in a fight, and that’s...chilling. Even more so as he’s also not sure he’ll be allowed to walk away without one if he fails to answer the man’s questions to satisfaction.

The interrogation - because that’s what it turns out to be - starts out with Stiles having to explain how he’d gotten the phone number and code he’d used. It continues to why, and how he can’t really be who he claims to be. It takes a lot more than Stiles had hoped to satisfy the still unnamed man, but at the same time that’s somewhat calming. Someone that careful about speaking to the right person for the right reasons should be safe to trust - at least a little.

In the end the man nods, and tells Stiles to call him Christian. It’s fake, obviously, but it’s better than “the man”, especially for someone with a parent in law enforcement.

 

“Did your mom ever tell you why she had that number?”

“She said it was for someone who owed her a favor, and who could help me if I had no other way out. ‘A hidden  ace in the sleeve’ she said.”

Christian nods, clearly agreeing.

“And why did you wait until now?”  _ All things considered _ hangs in the air.

“Wasn’t until now I felt I could. Considered it, back when… But mom told me you’d need time to respond, and yeah, I didn’t have that. Had another option that didn’t need time though. I wasn’t exactly wanting to gamble on you being able to get me out of their claws, should I land in them.

“But now? Now I’ve got time, and a use for that favor that doesn’t depend on you being crazy enough to take on the Council to repay it.”

Christian looks at him strangely, and seems to be thinking hard. Stiles can tell that whatever’s running through the other man’s head is important, so he clamps down on his impatience and waits. He’s gotten better at that, thankfully.

When Christian finally makes up his mind Stiles has run through his contingency exit plans five times, in a different order every time, and he’s close to going for one of them.

“You know why I owe your mom a favor? No? It’s not a pretty story. A few years back my old military commander called in a favor. A huge one, meaning I had to disappear from the face of the earth for a bit.”

Christian smiles, a twisted mockery of humor that tells Stiles there’s a story there that he wants to hear but won’t.

“I’d been gone for five days, had another three left when my Mark flared. I made enough of a stink that they opened communications for me. When I got through one of my partners informed me he’d experienced the flare too, at the same time. And so had our third. Their Marks lined up, and from what we could tell, mine did as well.

“I know, a triple Match? Unheard of, but. It felt right. Felt like everything I never thought I deserved, but would give everything to have.

“Except our third, she was missing.”

Stiles thinks about going through that, about having Derek missing, and can barely breathe from how horrible even the thought makes him feel. Across from him Christian is nodding grimly.

“She’d just gone out for a quick errand, some important call, and got pulled into a wan. Everything pointed to her having been picked up for sub training, only it made no sense. Neither of us are the submissive type, but her the least. Out of the three of us, if I’d had to make the call, I’d have said Ha-Harry.

“But what really made the alarms go off was the fact that neither me nor H-Harry had been informed of a Match. That breaks all the rules, and it was worrying enough that I was pulled out and allowed to go back. We thought maybe it was because I was where I was. Except I got home, and there was still no contact, and when my old CO went snooping through records he couldn’t find anything about her.”

It sounds, Stiles thinks, like what would have happened to Scott had he not been bitten, and had someone other than John Stilinski answered the call. Both the disappearance, and the missing records - they’ve got access to topclass hackers, and no one’s managed to find even the slightest shred of information on his Match. All they have is Scott’s insistence that they’re out there, somewhere, and a sense of direction.

“Your mom was the one to help us. She got us the location of three sub-training facilities, and ranked them in order of most likely, and with that we were able to make a plan.”

Apparently, Stiles muses as the tale unveils, it isn’t impossible to break into a sub-training facility. Also, he’s clearly underestimated Christian. The man  **is** insane enough to launch an attack on a Council facility, and brilliant enough to pull it off.  _ Good to know _ . He also gets every single suspicion regarding what happens in sub-training confirmed, not that he needed it.

“Once we located her… She was unconscious, strapped to a bed, and showed obvious defensive wounds. It made no sense. She’s not a fighter, even if she can defend herself if needed. The way she works, she’d have either waited for us to come for her or for them to relax and then break out. For her to have fought…”

Not good.

“Yeah. Except whatever you’re thinking, it was probably worse. I checked her over, to see if she could be moved without extra caution, and let me tell you, I’ve seen women treated better in war zones - hell, I’ve seen  **war criminals** treated better. In the end we counted six broken bones, a dislocated shoulder, a fractured wrist and several burn marks. I’m not even going to touch on what else they did. Suffice to say we sure as fuck didn’t need to run a rapekit.

“She wasn’t alone there - they had four others in various conditions. Two had been given the same treatment as our girl, only it must have been for a longer time. One was physically unharmed, but completely broken. The last one… She was braindead. They kept her on life support though, apparently as a warm body for when they wanted a fuck but weren’t up for the fight with the others.”

That...that’s Stiles’s worst nightmare right there, confirmed. He fights back the urge to throw up, and renews his promise to never let them take him alive.

“I can help you get away. You’ll never have to worry about the Council again, I promise you, but you’ll have to give up everything.”

Stiles starts to interrupt, but Christian raises his hand and continues.

“I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is. You can bring a bag, and if your dad’s willing, him too. Just, you can’t ever return, and you can’t keep in touch with anyone here.”

“Yeah, no. I’m not saying I wouldn’t give up a lot to be safe, but that’s not what I’m looking for here. I already did that, okay, I allowed my dad to think I was dead and left him behind to avoid the council. And I think I’ve done fine, staying under their radar. So thanks, but no thanks.

“But just for the record? If I’d agreed, there’s no way I would have gone without Derek. My Match,” he clarifies as Christian raises a questioning eyebrow.

For the first time Stiles sees the man react, apparently shocked by the fact that Stiles is with his Match, and that they’re close enough that staying together isn’t optional.

“So what is it you want then?”

“Information. Mom said you had ways to get it, on just about anything. Well, that’s what I need. As much as you can get me. The Council’s taken too much from me already, and from so many others, and I’m done letting them. It’s time they’re taken down. But I need information to do that.”

Once again Stiles gets to watch as shock travels across Christian’s face, followed by a longer silence.

“And you think  **you** can do that?”

“I’m not seeing anyone else stepping up. Are you?” The double entendre hangs in the air between them, vibrating like the challenge it is.

“So, can you do it? Can you get me what I need?”

Christian hesitates, and Stiles is preparing to push when he hears a low murmur coming from somewhere close to the other man. Judging from the way Christian cocks his head slightly and from the way his face tightens - just minutely, only visible to someone like Stiles - he’s listening to something. Someone? A communications device of some kind, probably.

This...could turn nasty. He starts running through exit strategies again, but before he can make a decision Christian swears in a low, almost inaudible voice.

“Dammit, Ha-...”

Then he takes a deep breath and says, reluctance clinging to his voice, “you’ll get your information”.

 

As it turns out, back when they’d broken into the Council facility to get their girl the invisible “Harry” (and if that’s his actual name, then Stiles’s is Mike, which… yeah) had not only gone through the computers to steal as much information as possible, but also left a data mining program behind. Which is good for Stiles, but (understandably) makes Christian furious.

There are a quite few more muttered curses, as well as a very pointed remark about people who have no concept of safety, and who don’t understand that Christian can’t  **protect them** if they keep fucking secrets. Stiles sensibly chooses to not even touch that with a ten foot pole. He’d react the same way if it was Derek being reckless - and he knows Derek will be even worse once he finds out just what it is Stiles is up to now.

Stiles won’t apologize for it though, not even though he knows he’s put not only himself but everyone in danger. Just as he won’t be anything but happy that “Harry” did something equally dangerous. It’s selfish, sure, but if getting this information gets him even one step closer to taking down the Council it’s worth it.

It’s another hour before Stiles can leave, the portable hard drive that supposedly holds the keys to the kingdom hidden on his body. Christian’s twitchy, and it’s obvious why. He wants to help, but at the same time he wants nothing to do with any of it.

“Look, I..:”

“No. You feel like you should offer to help out, right? Well, I’m not going to lie, I could use the help. But I’m not going to take it. You have your Matches to take care of, to protect. Your girl? She needs you to stay the hell away from the Council, and I’m running full speed ahead in their direction.

“Sure, you or your… ‘Harry’ find out anything, and send it my way, I’d be very grateful. But this is my fight, my choice. I’m not risking anyone else.”

That, of course, isn’t exactly 100 percent true. He’ll try not to, but something tells Stiles that in the end he’ll have no option but to risk others. He just won’t do it unless it’s completely unavoidable, and honestly? He’ll probably try and only risk people who deserve it. People whose deaths wouldn’t be that big of a loss.

But not these three. Not after what they’ve already suffered.

Christian looks him over, nods and reaches out to take Stiles’s hand. His voice is dead serious once he speaks.

“Alright. Once you launch whatever attach you’re planning though? You let me know. You hear me? And if you don’t let me know you’re okay after, I’ll come for you. They get you, I’ll get you out. Your Match too. No matter what, I’ll get you out and somewhere they can’t touch you.

“And not because of what I owe your mom. Because what you’re doing? It’s something I should have done - that I would do if it didn’t mean risking the others. And for that, man, I owe  **you** .”

 

Once he’s back home, and has had his eardrums practically shattered from a dozen lectures, as well as almost getting frostburns from the cold shoulder Derek shows him, Stiles starts going through the material he’s been given. (Well, once he’s had one of the resident computer witches - or “techno pagans”, apparently - check that the drive’s safe.) It’s a  **lot** . It’s a fricking mountain of information, is what it is, and Stiles is going to find what he needs in it even if it means not sleeping for a year.

He’s a were, he’ll survive.

Probably.

Three days in Derek tranqs him, forcing him to sleep through the night, and when he starts up again it’s with Derek next to him. That works much better. Well, “better” as in that together they cover more ground and sometimes Derek picks up on things Stiles misses due to different knowledge bases. “Not better” as in now Derek is involved. Stiles would prefer if he wasn’t, but considering Derek feels the same way about him there’s really not much he can do about it without looking like a big, fat hypocrite.

In the end they find what they need to know - and of course, Stiles thinks, it’s magic - and he makes a plan. It’s a good plan, in terms of achieving their goals, but he’s fairly sure no one else will agree.

 

“Are you insane?” Marin isn’t screaming, unlike everyone else in the room, but that doesn’t make her any calmer or less angry.

“No. Look, this is the only way to go. Worst case scenario-”

“We all die.”

“No. Okay, yes, but that’s the worst case scenario for every single day even doing nothing, as long as the Council exists. So we’re ignoring that. The worst case scenario is we break the magic that allows the Council to track the flare, and find Matches, but everything else stays the same. Best case? We  **ruin** them. We free everyone, for the rest of time. I’m good with possibly dying being the worst case scenario if we can win that.”

Stiles isn’t suicidal, regardless of others might think. He wants to live a long life, with Derek next to him, and the year and a half they’ve had together is nowhere enough. (He’s not sure any amount of time will really be enough.) Just… The way they’re living, hiding and in fear, it’s not good. For now they’re safe, sure, but only if they shrink their lives, if they cut themselves off from everything outside the wards. And it really is  **for now** . Sooner or later the Council will find them. The world has changed so much that not even the strongest wards will keep them completely hidden much longer. Once the Council starts truly searching - and they will - nowhere and no one will be safe any longer.

He wants a life where he can run free under the full moon with Derek by his side. He wants a life where Scott can find his Match and be happy. He wants a world where that is possible, and he’s willing to risk his life for it.

It’s as easy as that.

 

He gets a solid team of five. Derek - who won’t stay away, no matter how many times Stiles begs him. Jana the techno pagan. Another witch, a white haired old man who calls himself Raven. A bounty hunter slash bodyguard by the name of Braeden.

And then he gets Jennifer.

Under any other circumstance Stiles would rather cut his arm off than work with her. For one, she’s batshit crazy. He’s not making fun, or light, of the mental health issues she’s clearly got, no. When he calls her that he’s referring to the fact that she’s killed seven people (that he knows of) in some power-raising ritual.

She’s living in the community only because she can’t be allowed to walk free - either she’d continue to kill people, or the Council would capture her and use her - and the team sent to stop her wouldn’t dirty their hands or their ethics by killing her.

Stiles would have done the deed himself if not for the cold facts: if Jennifer could be made into a weapon by the Council she can also be one  **against** them. That had been a possibility he hadn’t been willing to throw away. After all, there was always the option of killing her later should she turn out useless - unkilling someone however…

There are three things Stiles knows to be undeniably true about Jennifer: She hates the Council just as much as he does. She hates her Match who betrayed her to them even more. She cannot be trusted.

And now he’s going to have to do exactly that.

 

O---o--o---O

 

Stiles gives himself a mental shake, forces himself out of the memories, and refocuses on the camera. He's only got so long, and it’s important he do this right. His job is drawing attention. From the regular people watching his broadcast, the ones about to have the Council’s crimes thrown in their faces in full technicolor glory thanks to “Harry” and his data mining. But also from the Council, and their goons. He’s bait, plain and simple, to make them focus on him and hopefully miss as Jennifer and Raven smash two hundred years of oppressive magic to impotent little pieces.

“I've been hiding from the Council, because I know their secrets. I know what they are. I know what they do - what they would do to me given even half a chance. I know what they’ve done to others, and that the ones they killed are the lucky ones.”

He talks about Scott, and the girl that’s his missing Match. He talks about the Hales, about the people his mom tried to help, about people that only exist as notes and pictures in stolen files.

When he’s done, eyes aching and voice hoarse, he gives the camera as hard a look as he can.

“I'm done. No more hiding. No more living in fear. No more allowing them to break and twist and murder people.

“It's time for  **them** to fear  **me** .”

 

~The End ~


End file.
